


A heart made of metal

by heizl



Series: To Be Human [5]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Denial of Feelings, F/M, Gen, Heartbreak, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Minor Markus/North (Detroit: Become Human), One-Sided Relationship, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25385980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heizl/pseuds/heizl
Summary: No one chooses to be put on this planet. You’re granted life without requesting it, and when you ask for a refund, you’re given a non-answer and told to figure it out yourself. Simon didn’t ask to be brought back. He doesn't want to feel like a trophy to rectify the guilt his friends held. You’d think getting a second shot at life, having played the demo and having more guidance than he did the first time, Simon would be happy to be back. But, he isn’t. And that makes him feel ungrateful— but the biggest problems he faced before dying are now staring right back at him. Because it’s Markus. Markus has always been his number one problem.His love was blinding, and it captivated him, and suffocated him. Of all the damn files corrupted, his feelings for Markus survived, because of course. It’s like someone was purposely punishing him. This was scarier than accepting death, accepting that he couldn’t be the twinkle in Markus’ eye, that he’d never see him in the same light Simon did. Markus couldn’t make up his mind, ever. Even now, he played with Simon because he knew he wouldn’t walk away that easily. He couldn’t deal with this again, his heart was too damn sore.
Relationships: Markus & Simon (Detroit: Become Human), Markus/North (Detroit: Become Human), Markus/Simon (Detroit: Become Human)
Series: To Be Human [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773634
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	A heart made of metal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This series is a continuation from chapter 9 of 'Was it worth it, or not'.

A stranger to his own body, like a breathing corpse trapped inside a sarcophagus, and these blue eyes that mimicked wear, _feigned_ pain because these eyes still had color, had life to them, studied each movement— dragging his fingers across pale cheeks, over an understructure that felt familiar, choking on the knife stabbed through his throat, gasping for air even if he didn’t need it. His reflection was a traced sketch of Simon; nothing more than that, and that’s how it would always be, from now on. A reminder of what his body once was. His mind, he was here, even if he felt like he was worlds away, hanging off the edge of Titan. He _was_ Simon, but this mummy— this was not. A perfect replica, carved by someone who didn’t know his name, would never understand his story. Created by another machine whose only purpose was to build. Not think, or say, just do. This body tried to mimic Simon, like his every imperfection and quirk had been studied under a microscope. But the mirror was covered in a thick dusty fog— he was hazy, blurry, and what, _this_ was supposed to be Simon now, because they shared the same dirty blond he was familiar with? This was supposed to be him, because he was _told_ it was?

A body’s a body, and at the end of the day, the least of his worries. But he didn’t _want_ this one to change. Maybe he could accept having something new, _being_ someone new, if he had been put in a new situation. But, he wasn’t, because he was the only changed one in a group who’d been able to keep living, experiencing time passing by as they should, as _he_ should’ve. He didn’t want to lose Markus, his attention, his lingering gaze; he was always watching his body, the body he’d grown familiar with, as he walked away, shyly when he didn’t think anyone would notice (but, Simon did, always did). These hopes and, delusions, as he tried to chalk them down to, did more harm than good, but he couldn’t help that of all the memories he'd lost (there were some corrupted files, he learned), these damn feelings stayed put. And he didn’t want to change, because if he was put back on earth, given a second chance to play this game, he really wanted to keep his cards close and try to test the waters with Markus. Yes, Simon knew his place, and he knew North stood where he desired. But, sometimes, love makes you a little selfish.

So, here he was now. Standing in a house that felt as familiar as it did foreign, and he was wearing one of Josh’s old sweatshirts, and he could hear their voices reverberating from downstairs. Their laughter. He’d been here before, in this exact place, living out this same scenario; felt so familiar, until he looked in the mirror again. This was almost ironic, almost made him want to laugh; he didn’t believe he had a greater purpose in life, not anymore. At one point, he would’ve found himself muttering choice words, perhaps prayers and pleas for solitude, but this was anything but a miracle. He couldn’t taste, but sour was on his tongue. He was frustrated, or… furious. They left him there on that roof, thrown a pistol with one shot his way, acted like he'd be able to fend for himself, but they all knew what was lurking behind those doors. They knew Simon's fate, decided for him before he ever could. Him being here was like adding a fresh coat of white paint to an already tarnished canvas. Wanted to clear their conscious of guilt, but the brushstrokes were thick and too raised to hide. 

Everything was supposed to be so peachy and wonderful because he could drink in the good parts of what came with a successful protest. The bloodshed and violence was fast forwarded for him, and now they were on disc two. Not even ten hours ago he was surrounded by nothing but… nothing. That's all death was, the company of _nothing_. He was certain death was, but believe Simon when he opened his eyes and all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. Love had a hold on him with a vice grip, a gravitational pull into a four foot locked closet— he couldn't direct his anger at Markus, not even if he tried. And sure, in return that only made him more upset, frustrated he had no means of venting his emotions— how're you supposed to cope with accepting you were responsible for your own demise, and now brought back by the people who encouraged it?

Markus made his head spin, he really did. Anyone who'd consider this utter predicament he was thrown into _good_ was more delusional than he was. All the lights were off in Carl's house, except a single lamp in the living room. He couldn't stay up here and sulk forever, he couldn't ignore his problems for much longer, couldn't avoid Markus' eyes that had already found his, even as he leaned over the railing to watch them. Him and Josh were stripping the couches of their cushions and preparing beds, three of them. But, wait, there were five of them here, or… was he really that disconnected that he imagined there were more. 

He relished each step he took as he felt carpet brush under his toes, fingertips gliding over smooth polished wood. These little things that no one ever thought about in life, being able to move and if he wanted to stop walking towards Markus, he could— these little things were always taken for granted. Carl had this metal bird cage, looked like an antique piece that'd probably be worth a pretty penny (not something his own family could've ever been able to afford). And taking up its space were two birds, still chirping despite the unmatching quiet. He powered them off. Robot animals he always found sort of amusing and cute, in a way that sure, a pet made of springs probably made more sense than one that needed constant upkeep. Though if the birds ever grew tired of their confinement, it's not like he'd be able to tell. 

The doors were wide open as he approached the two men, and again, Markus always fucking did this to him. Markus' eyes were latched onto him with a burning intensity and he wanted to fall through the floorboards, run away, make himself just _not_ look. It was almost a physical pain he felt and his fingers twitched, because Markus was now smiling, warm and wide, but he saw _her_ peek out from the kitchen. A reminder he couldn't say the things he wanted to, do the things he'd think about when he was truly alone. His lips parted, and Simon wanted— _needed_ — to rebuild his mental catalogue of him, of his nervous tics and little mannerisms he'd picked up before he could learn them. He needed to have these visuals, he needed to be reminded Markus was something, a person, not just in his dreams.

The first to break the silence: a simple "hey", but it was more complex than that. Markus was speaking words, giving meaning, in his eyes alone he knew he wouldn't have been able to express verbally. His fists balled. Markus never could make up his mind, could he. Always letting his guard down around Simon, getting too close and vulnerable, making Simon drop his guard, and then turning in North's direction at night. Markus set down a cushion, his back straightening. Oh, he knew he was staring too long, and he knew Josh had noticed as well. But fuck this, he was a deadman— or, man _back_ from the dead, rather— he was allowed to pull out a notepad and jot down his surroundings if he needed to, because for all he knew, tomorrow would continue where he remembered leaving off.

Simon didn't know what to say; a casual hey in response seemed like the right thing, but he didn't _want_ to be casual. He wanted to shout at Markus, ask for a detailed recap on _everything_ he missed, ask why there was thirium stained on the couch. He needed to settle on something. Markus was waiting, his brow quirked. "Only three?” 

“Oh," the corners of his lips twitched. “North is sleeping in the kitchen with Dylan. We thought it’d be safer, for tonight at least. We can work more with him in the morning.”

“Is he still knocked out?”

“He seems to be somewhat stabilized right now. We’re here now, if anything happens. North can hold her own, she’s been through worse. We all have.”

Simon let out an awkward hum of approval. He could _feel_ Josh still watching them, and it was annoying at this point. They weren’t a prime time reality show, although he couldn’t deny that they were entertaining. Yes, he was angry. But, Simon didn’t like to be mean, not without reason. He wasn’t programmed with a mean metal bone in his body, and he surely wasn’t raised that way. It was better to solve a problem than hold a grudge— but not everyone thought that way. North had always been the odd one out in their group, even if she’d been around before Simon. Him and Josh were close, had clicked just like that. Not North; she’d always kept to herself during meetings, never caught talking to anyone but herself. They’d became friends, or acquaintances at least after Josh led them to a Cyberlife plant; their willingness to help others without protest seemed to garner her respect. But, Simon, he didn’t understand her. So consumed with hatred for every and anything, she’d snap at them if you caught her in the wrong mood. He knew where she came from, the abuse she endured. What those Eden workers went through was abhorrent; but it didn’t excuse her resentment. Her refusal at accepting a human could hold an ounce of good-heartedness.

He was lying to himself if he said he _didn’t_ judge her. Witnessing their own kind shot and murdered right in front of them for presenting peacefully in the street, and all she wanted was to turn the tables and do the exact same thing. Spilled blood was her hobby. He didn’t want to admit this, outloud, because _this_ was mean— if fate had been placed in his own hands, he would’ve kicked her out of Jericho the second she proposed war. It was a blessing Markus showed up when he did. If fate was currently in his hands, which, it wasn’t, he’d make it up to Markus so he wouldn't miss her presence, so he’d never think about her again. He’d be able to keep Markus busy.

Markus chuckled. “You changed your hair.”

“I didn’t feel like I was much of a brunet.” He lifted his hand to stroke through his hair, because he was getting restless on his feet and he needed to fidget. He didn’t like this much direct attention; the spotlight made him uneasy, even if it was the attention he craved. But Markus stopped him, and he replicated the movements he’d thought of— Markus combed through his hair, pushed his bangs aside, made Simon feel sick to the core.

Markus’ eyes were bouncing off the walls, like he couldn’t pick a spot to focus on. And the glimmer caught in his caramel iris was hypnotising. “I like it. It suits you.” 

“Yeah… I think so too.”

Josh cleared his throat, and Markus’ immediate gaze was tugged away from him, leaving Simon at a loss for words, breathless, almost. There was a look they shared, and Simon didn’t know what it meant, other than a signal of sorts. But Josh was telling him something. So Markus kept his hands at his side, changed the subject and continued. “Um, I know it’s not much, but,” he gestured to the makeshift beds. “It’s better than nothing. Carl only has one air mattress and this is going to have to do until we can find somewhere else to take shelter.”

“No, Markus, it’s more than enough. I’m just…” Well, what would his next words be. He was anything but happy. Discontent, anxious, melancholic. _Markus, why did you do this to me?_ But, he wouldn’t confess that. He could lie. Put on a show, pretend to be okay. Anything to keep that gleaming smile there. “I’m glad to be here.”

His reaction was worth it. “I’m really glad you’re here too, Simon. I—” Markus was about to say more when North walked into the room and she wrapped her arms around his chest, pressed against his back, a kiss planted to the shell of his ear. She was whispering something, and Simon felt his smile falter. He didn’t want to acknowledge that he was jealous. It wasn’t a pleasurable feeling. Didn’t want to say he was envious that she’d been the one picked and allowed to stay close to him. That he stared at them and imagined being able to keep Markus tucked against his own chest, be so close he could see his eyelashes hit his cheeks, intertwine their fingers. He really wanted this little crush to be over with. He knew it wasn't a crush, but he didn’t like to give the word acknowledgement. When he did, it only made him feel miserable.

“I’m going to…” Markus wasn’t listening anymore. So Simon sighed to himself and slipped outside, sitting on the front porch. He could hear crickets, hear cars driving by, and he rested his elbows on his knees, head hanging low. It felt like he was trapped inside a nightmare— like one that he’d had before. Where him and Markus finally found time to be alone, and he leans in to kiss him, his hands traveling up his body, only to be pushed away. One of the nightmares he woke up from terrified, because he didn’t want to feel connected to anyone again. He wasn’t ready to be, and he wasn’t expecting to feel so… emotionally attached to Markus when they first met. For Simon, it was hard enough to accept friendships, because he was always plagued with worry of rejection. His whole life, all he’d known was rejection. False sentiment that he was important, being told he was loved, but really, love to most people was about making themselves feel good. Your feelings were as disposable as Sunday’s trash.

He heard the door open and looked over his shoulder. He could see the outline of Josh’s stature. “Do you mind if I join you? Swear I’m not following you, just didn’t want to be in there right now either. They’re sort of...” he smiled uncomfortably.

Simom shook his head, patting the spot next to him. “Making out again?” 

“Something like that.” Josh leaned back on his hands, bumping his knee against Simon’s. “Hey. Are you glad to be back, or are you mad at me?”

Simon stroked his face. “I don’t know how I feel about being given a second chance when the first one wasn’t that pleasant to begin with. But, I’m not mad _at_ you, Josh. Have I ever been?” Maybe that was a lie. Maybe he could manifest his anger towards himself so no one would get hurt. 

“Yeah, once.”

Simon cocked his head. “When?”

“Your third night in Jericho, I think it was? You couldn’t keep yourself asleep because of the ‘racket’, you said. And you blamed it on me, when it was North banging that stupid ball against the wall for hours on end.”

“Oh…” Simon smirked. “Okay, that doesn’t count considering that wasn’t even _you_ I was mad at.” Josh shoved him playfully, and Simon sighed, again, though it was more out of contentment this time. “ _This_ is nice, I won’t lie. Being able to look up and see stars again. I was growing sick of metal pipes being our only decor.”

“It is. Though I’m sure it’s a lot more peaceful up there than it is down here.”

“Maybe.”

“Simon, I’m… I am sorry. When I found you up there, I didn’t know what the hell to do. And when I’d saw that you shot yourself— I called Markus, and told him you were still _there_ , that you weren’t just a lost hope and,” he looked away, “it’s not really like we had a choice. Markus was adamant about bringing you back.” 

Clear as day, he remembered that Connor person having his hand wrapped around his slender wrist, and his mouth fell open almost like he was going to say ‘no’, urge Simon not to do what he knew he was thinking. Connor had been connected with him when he died, and he could feel he was just as scared as he was. Simon could read his memories; that older guy that was with him, he was attached to him, held him at the standard of family, yet he gave Simon no choice. Connor had someone he’d be devastated to lose, but apparently Simon having friends and family and a life didn’t matter to him at all.

“That,” Simon licked his lips. “That’s the big reason why I wish I wasn’t back.” 

Josh rubbed his shoulder. “You still feel the same way about him?”

“I was trying to make myself stop. I… just wanted to focus on our missions, and our cause. I understand he chose North, and I know he’ll never acknowledge that sometimes he looks at me like he... All I want is for him to make up his goddamn mind. He’s _exactly_ how I remember him. I was expecting a hug, but— you saw, he kissed me. Maybe I’m too attached and it is nothing.”

“No, it’s not just you, Simon. I think everyone can see he sends you mixed signals. After we found out you were dead, all North talked about was how you ‘died for the cause’ and we couldn’t wallow in our pity. We needed to move on. Markus, he lost it, and he wouldn’t talk to her for two days after.”

“His first night in Jericho, we talked. For hours. Until the sun rose. About _everything_. About the grand parties he’d attended with Carl, the countries he’d seen, and he asked about my life. About the family that adopted me, when I’d become deviant, how I’d found my way there.” He stared at the grass. “He actually cared about me. And then he followed me around, always coming up to me when he had nothing better to do. Maybe I should’ve been more careful. But, when I look at him...” he ran a hand through his hair. “Have you ever been in—” the word felt thick, “love?”

“Yeah. I have.” Simon watched him intently, so he continued. “A student of mine.”

“You fell in love with a human?”

“She’s what got me through each day. Same old lectures that no one ever listened to, mumbling under their breaths about how boring my classes were, how they wanted a real professor. And the other teachers, the human ones, never acknowledged us. There were strikes daily. But, she wasn’t like them. She always came to class on time, sat in the front row. And one day, she asked if I could tutor her.”

“I’m assuming you’re not still in contact with her.”

“No. I’ve tried, believe me. But that’s…” Josh trailed off.

“The guys that attacked you.”

“Yeah,” he rubbed his hands together. “A bunch of her frat buddies found out something was going on between us. I like to believe everything she told me was genuine and not part of some sick ploy. But they didn’t go after her. It was only me they wanted to kill.” 

“How did it feel? To be in love.”

“It was sweet, in that fairytale sort of way. Maybe too sweet, at first. When I looked at her, time stood still and everything felt alright. I could forget our differences, forget that the rest of the world called me a ‘job stealer’ and ‘overpriced plastic’. She made me feel _human._ But, it wasn’t all sugar and roses. Our feelings had to stay behind closed doors. When we were out in public, I was nothing more to her than her computer teacher. I’d see guys hit on her, and she’d flirt back. I wanted to go over there and do something a lot worse than punch them. But, I couldn’t. I got angry, and some of that anger turned into resentment, against her.”

“That’s how I feel when I look at him— all of it. Except I can’t stay angry at him. He’s the only thing I see. He’s the only thing that makes life worth living, to me. I feel… dead, more dead than when I really was, knowing that I’m not the center of his world. That makes me selfish, I know.”

“Love makes you selfish sometimes.”

“That’s what I tell myself, but, it still doesn’t feel very good,” Simon’s voice shook. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to stop feeling this way.”

“Simon, maybe I’m way out of line here, but I don’t think Markus is _trying_ to play games with you. I just don’t think he knows what he wants. The way he looks back at you is nothing like how he looks at North.”

“Josh, _stop_ ,” Simon begged. “Don’t get my hopes up. Please.”

The door creaked open again, and the light that followed made Simon wince. Damn Markus and his ill-timed entrances. “I’m sorry, I’m not interrupting at all, am I?”

Josh glanced at Simon but he shook his head. “Nope. We’re just catching up.”

Markus smiled. “We have plenty of that to do too. I think we all need to get some rest though. North heard reports of another hate crime reported by Jericho that we should check out tomorrow.” 

“I’m about ready for bed." Josh got up and Simon reluctantly followed, passing Markus on the way in.

* * *

It was windy that night, though not in a way that was so violent that trees were being knocked over, but just enough to make branches dance. The lamps in the garden were left on, so elongated shadows were cast across the ceiling. It provided Simon with some form of entertainment at least; he couldn’t sleep, not when Markus was lying next to him, at a distance that was far too close and not at all comfortable. He insisted they push their beds together like a ‘slumber party’, so they could catch up and chat the night away. And they did do that, for awhile, until Josh told them to shut up and they both pledged to try to sleep. Simon threw his arm over his eyes. He wasn’t interested in the thought of stasis anyways. He’d grown tired of sleep, even if his body craved it. He ignored the warnings.

“Sy.” A whisper that made him pout. Great. He was still awake, too. Just perfect. So Simon rolled over, laying on his hand, and Markus was looking right back at him. 

“Hm?”

“I was hoping you’d still be awake.”

“I thought we promised each other we’d _sleep_.”

“Not much of a promise when neither of us kept it.”

Simon’s nose scrunched. “I guess you’re right. What’s up?”

Markus shook his head, and Simon noticed him shift closer. He wanted to lay on Simon’s pillow, he could tell. “I… don’t know. I’ve been thinking about too much.”

Simon half chuckled. “Yeah. Me too. I’m still in shock I’m here.”

“I can’t imagine what that must feel like. Sy, I’m so—”

Oh, he really didn’t want to hear it. Markus wasn’t sorry, not for bringing him back at least. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

His glance tore away, for a second, and then he blinked. “We still have more to talk about.”

“We could be talking until the end of time and still not be caught up, Markus.”

“Mm,” Markus hummed, and now was his turn to laugh a little. “We’ve always been the talkative ones.”

“We’re a real pair.”

“Pair of what?”

“I don’t know. Some would call us idiots.”

“Sounds fitting.”

“Mhm,” the smile Simon had held began to fade when he thought about the kitchen. “You didn’t want to sleep with North?”

Markus’ forehead creased, and his expression grew stern. “She... wanted to be alone tonight.”

“Oh. Are you guys… doing okay?”

“Things have changed since you were last here.”

“I hope you don’t mind that Josh, erm… he told me a bit, about what North did after, you know.”

“It felt like North didn’t give a shit when you died. She kept saying you died for the cause, you gave up your life for a good reason—”

“I _did_. I didn’t want them to find you.”

“It doesn’t mean I didn’t still cry myself to sleep over it. I lost my best friend and all she cared about was wanting to move on and encite more rage. She didn’t allow us to mourn. We did in our own time, me and Josh.” Markus took a long, deep breath, and Simon could feel him exhale, the cool air against his cheek. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be talking about myself right now.”

“Why not?”

“You don’t need to hear me bitching and moaning.”

“Markus, it’s okay. This isn’t a one way road. You’re allowed to feel how you are, and talk about it. I’m here for you too.”

"Are _you_ doing okay, though?"

Simon forced a smile. "I'm fine."

“Sy, I know you well enough to know when you’re lying.”

“I’m not lying, Markus. I’m… overwhelmed is all. It’s a lot to take in.”

Markus moved much closer now, probably too close, and he was speaking quiet, in his ear. It made Simon shiver. “I really missed you. So much. I— I don’t know if this is saying too much, but I’ve really never felt closer with someone than I do with you. I feel like I can tell you anything and you don’t question me or my motives, or ask me why I’m thinking that way. You accept me for who I am.”

Simon’s lips twitched. “I think you’re pretty cool the way you are.”

“So are you, Simon.”

“Do you ever think about what would’ve happened if you hadn’t found us?”

“I have. It wasn’t chance that brought us together.”

“You’re saying it was destiny.”

“You don’t believe in that sort of thing?”

“I don’t have much reason to anymore.” And before Markus could add in whatever he was about to say, Simon stopped him, muttering, “we need to try sleeping, for real this time.”

“...I think you’re the one that needs more rest than I do.”

“It’s not a competition. We _both_ do.”

Markus nodded, slow. “No, you’re right. We have work to do in the morning.”

“We always have work to do.”

By this point, Markus had fully migrated over to Simon’s pillow, and Simon was trying to keep his distance, head basically resting on the hard floor. Markus' hand was laying under his cheek, and when his eyes closed, Simon pinched the bridge of his nose. It was overwhelming, how badly he wanted to move just an inch closer so they were touching, lay his head on his shoulder, press his lips against his forehead. He wanted to grab his hand and keep it in his clutch. He needed to feel him. 

His hand was hovering beside Markus’. And he must’ve felt him there, because he instead grabbed his palm. He didn’t look at Simon. This was wrong, so fucking wrong. North, oblivious in the other room, and here they were, holding hands, practically spooning with what excuse? Because they missed each other? Simon knew what he wanted— but cheating wasn’t something he agreed with. His family replacing him, when they’d outright told Simon he was going to be sent back to Cyberlife because they’d no longer needed his services (and something about warranty, he’d stopped listening at that point), it felt like an icicle had been slammed through his chest. That was the first time he _felt_. Push all his prejudices aside, he didn’t want her to feel that way. But he also didn’t stop himself from wrapping his fingers around his. Not when Markus’ palm was turning the same color as his. 

The interesting thing about androids was, they did believe in soulmates. Or at least, it seemed like most did, from the ones Simon had talked to. Love for androids was ever changing, like with humans. A long journey of twists and turns, leaping over obstacles to find the one you were truly content with. When they’d found their partner, someone they deeply loved and cared for, they’d connect in a sort of way that was pure. It was their most vulnerable state. You didn’t get to pick who you fell for. And, androids weren’t as judgemental as humans, caught up in gender and sexuality. You loved whoever you loved. 

Simon could feel tears welling up in his eyes, his chin quiver, mouth open. He wanted to believe this was a dream, make himself wake up. Because, having this all be fantasy made him feel safer. He could control fantasy, contain it in a glass bottle so the memories would never fade or change. He didn’t want to get hurt again. He didn’t want Markus to keep denying this shit.

Then, a droplet fell on Markus’ hand, and his eyes opened. Just like that, he pulled away and rolled over, back facing him. He sounded panicked as he quickly said, “goodnight, Simon.”

Simon kept his hand in place as his skin returned. “Night.”


End file.
